


We're Doing This Right

by alphagottadonk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Daddy!Derek, Family Feels, Fluff, IDK use your imagination on that one, Kid!Fic, M/M, Magic, SO MUCH FLUFF, aka magic fertility deities that cook babies up inside their creepy cloaks or something, daddy!stiles, rambunctious adorable toddlers, weird ways to attain children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:47:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1359634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphagottadonk/pseuds/alphagottadonk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I wanna sleep in here,” A little voice spoke then and Stiles jolted upright so fast he nearly managed to brain himself on Derek’s chin. Islay was sitting at the edge of the bed looking at them curiously and Stiles was about ninety percent certain he was going to end up putting bells on his children so they couldn’t sneak up on him like Derek still managed to do almost every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Doing This Right

**Author's Note:**

> just in case, Islay is pronounced Eye-la and Mikołaj is pronounced Meek-oh-why. Also magic baby making Genii Cucullati because why not.

Stiles sighed as he made his way up the path to the house, tired and more than ready to curl up on the couch with his achy feet up. He smiled when he heard a loud squeal from inside, followed moments after by a peel of bubbly laughter that never failed to settle a goopy, warm feeling in his stomach.

He pushed the door open and tossed his keys on the nearby table before toeing out of his shoes, reaching for the few pieces of mail waiting for him. Mostly junk mail, he noted as he headed for the living room where most of the noise was coming from.

He paused in the doorway with a frown when he spotted Isaac on his hands and knees pretending to be a bull—that part was normal, but Scott being there wasn’t. He must have gotten off work early. He was lying on his back in the middle of the floor, grinning as two chubby cheeked boys that looked way too mischievous for anyone’s good bounced on his stomach.

“You think it’s cute now but just give it a few minutes. Little knees have a knack for finding all the painful spots.”

He huffed, grinning at the way both children’s heads snapped up, wide eyes locking onto him before they were launching themselves off of Scott and toward him.

Mikołaj practically climbed his leg until he could perch himself on Stiles’ hip, arms wrapping around his neck tightly. He curled his arms around the child in return, squeezing just hard enough to illicit a laugh.

“Daddy, no fair,”

Islay said from where he was standing impatiently in front of Stiles, looking up at him with a pout on his face. Stiles swooped down to hoist him up too, hurrying over to sit on the couch with them.

“You two are getting too heavy. Soon enough, I won’t be able to pick either of you up,” He teased lightly as he settled back into the couch, content to let them both nuzzle their faces up against his neck. If anyone had told him going into the whole supernatural debacle that he would not only stay part of the pack, but have two little werewolf toddlers of his own by twenty-five, he would have laughed. Hell, he probably would have made a running joke out of it.

It wasn’t like it was planned, and it definitely wasn’t normal. Stiles just knew some weird not-quite-human things were following him and the next thing he knew, there were two little bundles of brown eyed, dark haired babies in the picture. Genii Cucullati, the beings turned out to be; Celtic deities he’d read vaguely about in his mythology class. Unfortunately, there was little to nothing about them written down except their obvious ties to fertility.

He just didn’t expect them to actually be real and walking around handing off babies to couples that had been in a relationship for less than a year. (It had made headline news. Strange incidents of couples being handed over babies—especially ones that had tried and failed to have their own.)

Stiles still didn’t get why he and Derek had been on that list, though one of them had made some vague remark about carrying on an impeccable lineage. The scariest part was probably that he’d seen weirder than Celtic baby-gifting deities by that time.

Scott rolled onto his stomach before pushing up to his knees and crawling over to the couch to bite at one of Islay’s bare feet, barely avoiding a kick to the nose. He huffed out an amused sound before crawling up to plop down beside them, accepting the soda Isaac handed him. Stiles took the other with a nod, shifting around so that he could pop it open and take a drink.

“So, you two staying? Dad’s coming over at eight for dinner. We’re making golabki tonight.”

He said after getting in a few good minutes of cuddle time before the twins grew bored with it and started trying to goad Scott and Isaac into playing again.

Scott winced before shaking his head, absently plucking Mikołaj up and tossing him in the air effortlessly. “I have to get home soon, actually.” He said, and Stiles didn’t need to press him for more to know he had a heavily pregnant wife to go home to. Isaac shrugged when Stiles turned to look at him, saying, “I’ve got homework that needs done.”

Stiles shrugged in response in much the same way Isaac had, promising to save them both some though he had more than a sneaking suspicion Isaac would eat both portions the following day while babysitting.

“Okay then. Well, if you two are going to be here for a little longer at least, I’m going to start the food,”

He decided, pushing up to his feet again and heading for the kitchen with little acknowledgement from the others as they both wrangled a kid onto their back and started crawling around on the floor.

—-

Stiles just finished stuffing the cabbage when he heard the twins’ feet hit the floor and turned just in time to see them disappear out the door at a run. He paused to see if it was that damn bathtub toy commercial again that they insisted on watching every single time it came on, but then he could hear the front door clicking open. He rolled his eyes at the loud, “Papa Bear!” the two crowed in unison before following after them.

“Traitors,” He grumbled to himself as he watched them scramble to be picked up by Derek, going on to add, “You never greet me at the door. Way to play favorites.” He definitely didn’t miss the amused smirk on Derek’s face either.

He let the two have their chance to crowd Derek, butting their faces up under his chin snuffling and letting out content rumbles before stepping in, ruffling their messy hair as he did.

“Hey, you,” He greeted Derek, stealing a quick kiss that had the twins snickering. Mikołaj pushed at Stiles’ face when he decided he’d gotten enough attention for himself, declaring a loud, “Mine.”

Stiles pretended to be hurt by it, giving a mock pout and sulking back toward the kitchen. He needed to get the food in the oven anyhow, so he made it back in and shoved the pan into the pre-heated oven before checking the time. His dad should be there soon.

He bit back a small laugh when he heard the light patter of feet meandering into the kitchen and, a moment later, a small hand tugging at his pants leg. He turned to give Islay an expectant look, tried not to melt into a puddle of goo when he wrapped his arms around Stiles’ leg and gave him a big, gap-toothed smile.

“I’ll hold you, Daddy,”

He assured, making grabby hands afterward until Stiles obliged and picked him up. He was definitely the affectionate one of the two, was perfectly content to just sit in someone’s lap and watch cartoons for the better part of the morning. He was the one that ended up wedging between Derek and Stiles in the middle of the night and sprawling out to take up more of the bed than a four year old should be able to occupy.

Mikołaj was the rambunctious one. He was the one that, at eleven months old, learned to walk just so he could get into the living room cabinets to rip the pages from Stiles’ hardcover copy of The Hobbit. It had said a lot that he was too busy yelling, ‘Derek, get the camera!’ to mourn the loss of the book. 

He always figured he was too fucked up to raise children. He could barely take care of himself, so defenseless little humans that would rely on him for everything? The thought had terrified him and he knew for a fact that Derek didn’t expect to have children either. He admitted it once, late at night when he was just drowsy enough to talk about feelings, that he didn’t think he deserved a family again. He didn’t figure he would honestly live long enough to see something like that happen for himself, so when they were suddenly in the possession of two incredibly tiny little babies?

Derek wouldn’t voluntarily hold them for a week. He kept fretting about how just the slightest slip up could hurt them—being careful enough not to hurt Stiles was one thing, but little six pound infants? He looked at them like they were made of porcelain. The first time Stiles forced him to sit down, placing Islay in the crook of his arm, Derek let out a sound not entirely human, almost like a sob.

Of course Stiles had been absolutely terrified too. He was barely old enough to drink then. He would have to completely rearrange his life because college and little babies just seemed too much to shoulder together. He was afraid Derek wouldn’t be able to take it and would leave because they had just barely made it past their ten month mark in their relationship. They hadn’t even had an anniversary and they were somehow parents.

It was terrifying, yeah, but there was something unexplainable about how it felt when he looked down at them to examine their huge gray eyes and button noses, their puffy cheeks and wrinkly foreheads. Islay was blinking like he was about to fall asleep and Mikołaj was looking back at him like he was thinking ‘I may be the wrinkly, alien-looking squishy baby but I still think you’re weirder’. In short, they took his breath away and he wanted to do everything in his power to be good for them.

When his dad got there, the kids were drawing abstract scribbles on their aqua-mat and adamantly babbling at Derek about what the scribbles were. Mikołaj tended to draw animals, Islay stuck with family portraits.

By the time Stiles had a cup of coffee made and took it to the Sheriff, he was already nestled comfortably in the beige armchair near the coffee table, the twins on his lap asking him all about work. He barely managed to get a word in toward Stiles to thank him but he didn’t mind.

Stiles took the chance to settle in beside Derek on the couch, tossing his feet onto Derek’s lap and smirking victoriously when the action was noticed. Derek kneaded his fingers into the arches of Stiles’ feet absently as he tried to pay attention to what was on the news and Stiles leaned back to enjoy it as he listened to the others.

“So what have the mini-moons been up to today?” His dad asked to the room at large, the nickname never failing to get a few laughs from the kids. It was strange how that was the nickname that stuck, of all of them that came about. Isaac was the one to start it when it took him too long to remember how to pronounce their names (like they were really that difficult at all). He said it was appropriate since they were the pack’s first wolf babies and everyone ‘tended to look at them like they were the moon’.

The pack had actually laughed over the names for a while, saying they were just as weird as they expected to come from someone like Stiles. It took them a long time to believe him when he told them that Islay was Derek’s choice. The name part had been one of the most difficult decisions before Derek had finally suggested they both just choose a name from somewhere in their ancestry. Derek’s grandfather, of Gaelic descent, had been Islay. Stiles had a great uncle named Mikołaj so those were the names they chose.

—-

Dinner turned out nothing short of great and Stiles might be more proud of himself than was necessary. Whatever. It was the first proper meal they had in over a week. By the time he and Derek got home from work, they were both tired enough to cringe at the thought of cooking so they usually just loaded the boys up and went to the diner to eat.

Islay hummed happily as he focused on the rice, getting more of it on his booster seat than actually in his mouth. Mikołaj was more focused on the fresh bread Derek brought in from the bakery, dipping it in the tomato sauce and scarfing it down like he was starved.

“So, have you two talked about the school thing again lately?”

The Sheriff asked them between bites. Derek sighed, frowning momentarily when Stiles leaned over to wipe a smudge of dirt off the back of his neck. “I don’t- I’m not sure.” He answered, “We’ve been working with them but they’re still not the best about,” He didn’t have to say _acting normal_ for Stiles or his dad to get it.

The Sheriff nodded understandingly, pretending to be shocked when Mikołaj burped and then laughed about it with Islay.

“My siblings and I weren’t actually allowed to go to public school until fourth grade.” Derek continued eventually and Stiles couldn’t help but lean forward slightly in interest even though he’d already heard the story. Derek didn’t talk about his past much unless it was needed. “I’ve been looking around, trying to find someone who can handle homeschooling. Someone in the know.”

It would be complicated and costly, but it wasn’t exactly like they could just toss a couple of children into a public setting and not expect them to adapt without any incidents. He knew for sure that if they were to do that, Islay would be one of those children that didn’t handle starting school easily. Stiles could practically see him standing in the middle of a kindergarten room crying loudly for his daddy and papa bear and when Islay cried, he got furry-cheeked.

Thankfully, Derek informed him that werewolf kids couldn’t actually pop fangs until around seven or eight. He did warn him it would be a difficult process though, a week long stint where the children would try doing anything and everything to literally chew their teeth out for their wolf-teeth to come in. It reminded him of the times Scott would talk about puppies going through their chewing stages to get rid of their milk teeth. Derek was reluctant to admit it was the same thing, more or less.

—-

They didn’t want to go to sleep on time. They were all for bath time once the Sheriff left, and an episode of Paw Patrol, and even Stiles’ usually patented method of putting them to sleep with an elaborate bedtime story. Actually getting in bed and staying there was a different story though.

Stiles almost tricked himself into thinking he and Derek would have some well needed alone time because it had been a week since they last had time. Derek was freshly showered, still damp enough that his clothes were sticking to him as he crawled under the blankets and that was more than enough to get Stiles going.

He pulled Derek down for a kiss that turned heated and frenetic almost instantly, sliding his fingers into Derek’s wet hair and tugging just enough to get a smarting nip in retaliation. He sighed happily at the small chills of pleasure zinging at the base of his jaw as he lost himself to the slick drag of Derek’s tongue sweeping at the seam of his mouth. He was compiling a list of possible scenarios where they could take this when he felt the bed dip and thought it was just Derek moving for a moment, pressing up and trying to chase his lips as he pulled away.

“I wanna sleep in here,” A little voice spoke then and Stiles jolted upright so fast he nearly managed to brain himself on Derek’s chin. Islay was sitting at the edge of the bed looking at them curiously and Stiles was about ninety percent certain he was going to end up putting bells on his children so they couldn’t sneak up on him like Derek still managed to do almost every day.

Right, so no alone time after all. He dropped back onto the bed and barely managed to suppress a groan as Derek rolled off of him, scooping Islay up in the process and tucking him into the blankets between them, looking completely unperturbed. Let it be known that Derek Hale was the most schmoopy and domestic father ever.

He curled himself around Islay and scrubbed his chin against his shoulder just enough to pull a quiet bubble of laughter from him before they both snuggled down into the mattress, Islay pressing a little hand against Derek’s neck over his pulse. In all honesty, Stiles thought Derek lucked out in having such an awesome boyfriend because he managed to put up with the odd wolfy habits from all of them without batting an eye.

He rolled over to grab for his book and went back to reading while Derek worked to get Islay asleep, rumbling quietly in that way that always soothed the toddlers. Stiles was banned from calling it purring, but it was obviously the werewolf version of purring and no one could convince him otherwise.

He ended up making it through a few chapters before noticing that the rumbling stopped and was replaced instead with the sound of slow, steady breathing. He rolled over and felt his chest clench at the sight, Islay’s eyes closed and mouth hanging open just enough to drool against Derek’s shoulder. Derek had his eyes open to little more than slits as he watched their son sleeping and Stiles wasn’t honestly sure if the way he was carding a hand over Islay’s dark hair was a conscious move or not.

He didn’t doubt Derek would be a good dad, but he was still constantly surprised to see just how naturally he took to it. Having kids was possibly the best method of healing the gaping wounds Derek walked around with for so long. Stiles was just happy he was the one that got to share this with Derek.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi at my [tumblr](http://www.larkspurleaf.tumblr.com)


End file.
